


remembrance day

by smarshtastic



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, mckirk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's birthday was never his favorite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remembrance day

The first Remembrance Day ceremony was held at the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. All the important officers and admirals attended, several ambassadors and delegates, and of course the surviving crew of USS Kelvin. Winona, in a perfectly pressed uniform, cradled a tiny baby in her arms, Sam at her side, looking scrubbed and serious in a tiny suit. Her expression was distant as officers and dignitaries and all manner of other people came to give their condolences, express their gratitude and other niceties. 

“Winnie,” Chris said, finally coming to the front of the receiving line. He eyed the fussy baby, who looked too small to be already a year old. Sam peered up at him sleepily. 

“Chris,” Winona nodded, still relatively expressionless, struggling to keep the baby still in her arms. Chris pulled her into a hug, careful to avoid squishing the infant. 

“D’you need a break? I’m sure we could sneak away for a few minutes, they’d understand…” he murmured into her ear. She shook her head as he pulled away.

“No – it’s fine. I can… I’m fine,” Winona said. Chris chewed on his lip. 

“D’you want me to take the kids for a bit then? I can – give you a break?” 

Winona hesitated only a moment, then handed the restless baby to Chris. With the movement, the little boy started to cry in earnest, cracking open an accusing eye to glare at Chris. He cradled the little baby close, the blue eyes unsettlingly like his deceased father’s. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Chris murmured, bouncing the baby gently. He looked back at Winona. “I can look after Sam too…?”

Winona shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“I won’t go far, just shout,” Chris leaned in and kissed Winona’s cheek. He ruffled Sam’s hair. “I’ll be back soon, Sam. I’ll want a hug from you when I’m not holding your little brother.”

Sam shrugged, scooting closer to his mother’s leg. Chris slipped out of the line, taking the fussing baby with him. He moved away from the reception hall, finding a nice quiet spot in a secluded corner to pace back and forth. 

“Shh, shhh, it’s okay Jimmy,” Chris murmured, rubbing the little boy’s back gently. “I know, I know, it’s a lot of people in there. They just want to pay respects to your daddy, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Jimmy settled down slowly, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, his little fist pressed against his mouth. He blinked up at Chris and hiccupped. Chris wiped the tears from his face. 

“See? You’re okay,” Chris said, giving the baby a tight smile. It was really very unsettling how much of Jimmy’s father he saw in those startlingly blue eyes. “You’re okay Jimmy. It’s your birthday, you know that? A whole year old,” Chris said, shaking his head, keeping his voice light. “A whole year. I can’t believe it, sometimes. Seems like just yesterday. And here you are – a year old and barely bigger than you were when you were born. But you’ll fill out one of these days – just like your daddy. I saw his baby pictures once,” Chis nodded. “You’ll be handsome just like your daddy. You promise to be more careful though, okay?”

Jimmy blinked at Chris, very quiet and calm now. Chris smiled at him. “See? You’re okay. We’re all okay,” he pressed a chaste kiss to Jimmy’s little forehead. “Next year, we’ll make sure there’s less people around for your birthday. It’ll be much better that way.”

Chris bundled Jimmy closer against his chest, where Jimmy snuggled in quietly, occasionally looking up at his godfather. He fell asleep soon after, his little fist pressed against his mouth. Winona came to find them a few hours later. Chris had found a seat and fallen asleep himself, the baby curled up against his chest. 

“Mm, Winnie – ‘stime to go?”

“You let him sleep?” Winona asked, frowning. “Now he’ll be up all night.”

“He was overwhelmed,” Chris said, rubbing a hand up and down Jim’s back. Winona picked him up carefully. “Where’s Sam?”

“Maybe he’ll stay asleep – “ Winona began, but she was cut off by the baby’s sudden cry. “Great,” she sighed, bouncing him haphazardly. Chris got up stiffly.

“D’you want me to find him something to eat?”

“It’s fine,” Winona said curtly. “I’ll get it.”

She walked off with Jimmy crying in her arms, absently petting his back. Chris watched them go for a moment or two, then made his way to the bar to get very, very drunk.

***

It was chilly, threatening rain – one of those weird, cool but humid days in the middle of March that was sure to end in a thunderstorm. Jim pressed his face against the window of his bedroom, watching the clouds thicken and darken. It was just before lunchtime, but mom and Sam were acting really weird so Jim stayed in his room most of the morning. Now, his stomach was starting to rumble, so Jim gathered up Horny and toddled downstairs.

He peeked into the living room. Sam was sitting on the floor with some books, but he wasn’t coloring, he was just looking at them. 

“Sammy?” Jim asked, holding Horny close to his chest. Sam looked up. 

“What d’you want?” Sam asked, frowning. Jim shuffled from foot to foot. 

“I’m hungry,” Jim said. “What’re you looking at?”

Sam closed the books and stood up. “Just some books. I’ll help you get something to eat.”

“Where’s mom?”

Sam shrugged and started into the kitchen. Jim scrambled to catch up with him, looking at the books as he went by. They weren’t coloring books, they were all words, big ones that Jim didn’t understand. He had been learning to read, but it still took him awhile to sound out the words. He peeked into the kitchen, and saw that his mother was sitting at the table. 

“Hi mom,” Jim said tentatively. He didn’t know where Frank was, and the house was very still. He rocked on his toes, holding Horny protectively against his chest. His mother glanced at Jim, then looked away. “I’m hungry?”

Sam pulled something out of the fridge – a small, lumpy looking cupcake, the frosting slipping off the side. He held it out to Jim. 

“Happy birthday,” Sam said, thrusting the little plate at his younger brother. Jim blinked at it. Their mother stood up abruptly and left the kitchen. 

“For me?” Jim asked, looking back at his brother. 

“Yeah, it’s your birthday,” Sam shrugged. “D’you want it or not?”

Jim blinked and took the cupcake. “I’m five now,” Jim said, mostly to Horny. He looked at his mom, but was surprised to find she wasn’t there. He blinked. “Where’d mom go?”

Sam shrugged again. “She probably wants to be alone,” Sam said. 

“Why?”

“Because she’s sad.”

“Why? It’s my birthday!”

A strange look passed over Sam’s face. Jim set his cupcake down carefully, standing on his toes to push it safely onto the counter. “Why is mom sad?” Jim asked again, frowning. “She was happy on your birthday.”

“Your birthday is different. Dad died on your birthday,” Sam said. “He died right when you were born, mom said.”  
Jim furrowed his brow, hand tightening around Horny. People have told him this before, but he didn’t really understand what it meant. He had never met their dad. He knew Frank wasn’t their dad, even though he was married to their mom. “It wasn’t my fault,” Jim said uncertainly, after a long pause. Sam’s face scrunched up, his fists curling tight at his side. He stomped out of the kitchen, leaving Jim behind, very confused. He looked at Horny. “It’s okay, Horny,” Jim murmured. “I’ll share my cupcake with you.” 

Straining on the tips of his toes, Jim pulled his cupcake off the counter. He nearly dropped it, but caught it just in time, fingers squishing in the frosting. 

“C’mon, Horny,” Jim said, toddling out of the kitchen. He paused in the living room, but Sam wasn’t there. Instead, Jim picked up one of the books Sam was looking at before; it had a big picture of a starship on the front. Balancing everything carefully, Jim brought it all up to his room and shut the door behind him. He scrambled up onto his bed and set Horny securely in his lap so he could help him sound out the letters on the cover of the book. 

“U-S-S, youssss, youuusss,” Jim said, looking down at Horny. “Youse? And – K-E-L-V-I-N. Kay-eel-vi-en. Keelvien. Youse Keelvien. Two two three three. I dunno what that means, Horny. But it’s not a coloring book,” Jim shook his head, flipping through the pages. He couldn’t figure out what Youse Keelvien was, or why it made Sam look like that, so, with a sigh, Jim set the book to the side. He turned his attention to the lumpy cupcake, making sure to share some with Horny because he was hungry too.

***

School was still in session on the holiday, so Jim was working on the week’s homework, making sure it was done and sent in early. Tomorrow was his birthday, so Jim was planning on not being in school, not because he wanted to enjoy his birthday elsewhere, but because he wanted to avoid the long speeches about Remembrance Day and the curious looks and stares he got from the other students when George Kirk’s name was spoken. Jim’s resemblance to his father was more and more obvious every year, so the pictures of George Kirk they put up around the school made Jim increasingly uncomfortable. He had already sent the school administration a note excusing Jim from classes on Monday, his mother’s signature flawlessly forged at the bottom.

Tomorrow would be the fifteen year anniversary of the USS Kelvin incident, and Jim’s fifteenth birthday. His birthday was generally overshadowed by the commemorative ceremonies, and his mother, usually detached from Jim’s life, became especially cold and distant on the 20th of March. This year, she was off planet, leaving Jim at home with Frank.

Jim glanced at his clock nervously. It was getting late, which meant Frank would be drinking. Jim just needed to finish these physics problems, and then he’d be able to go. Rain pounded on the roof, thunder rumbled in the distance. He wished the weather would be quieter so he could keep an ear tuned to Frank as he moved around downstairs. Frank’s mood was almost as unpredictable as the early spring thunderstorms. 

It was fully dark outside by the time Jim finished his physics homework; the equations took much longer than Jim had anticipated, and now his quiet escape seemed less likely. He clicked a few buttons and sent off the homework so that it’d be on his teacher’s PADD in the morning. He grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and tucked his PADD under his arm. He listened for a moment, at the top of the stairs, but the thunder took that moment to shake the house loudly. Jim padded down the stairs, trying to be light on his feet. If he could just sneak out – 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” Frank demanded, his words slurring slightly. No such luck for Jim tonight. He hoisted his bag further up his shoulder, sticking out his chin with a practiced air of insolence. 

“Out,” Jim said. Frank came toward him, empty bottle in hand. Jim watched him warily, coming down the last of the steps so he could plant both feet firmly on the floor. He might be small for his age, but he had the advantage without the alcohol in his blood. 

“You can’t just wander in and out of here like you own the place,” Frank slurred. “There’s chores to do around here.”

“I did my homework, my room’s clean – “ Jim started, but Frank reached out and batted his PADD out from under Jim’s arm so it clattered to the floor. Jim gritted his teeth. “That has my homework on it.”

“Fuck your homework, you didn’t clean up the kitchen.”

“No one told me I had to clean up the kitchen,” Jim said, glancing down at his PADD to make sure it was in one piece. 

“Well I’m not gonna do it!”

Jim looked back up at Frank. “Then I guess it’s not gonna be cleaned.”

“Don’t you give me lip, boy,” Frank growled, advancing on him. Jim eyed the bottle in his hand. “You don’t own this place, and your mother’s not here to discipline you.” 

Jim swallowed and shrugged, starting to edge away from Frank, but the older man lunged and grabbed Jim’s bag, wrenching it off his shoulder. 

“Don’t –“ Jim said, making a grab for his bag. The hand holding the bottle came down hard on Jim’s arm. Jim hissed and pulled his arm back quickly. 

“You know where your mom’s at? In the black that killed your good for nothing dad – he didn’t leave her anything worth having, least of all you,” Frank said, swinging the bottle again. It connected with Jim’s shoulder even as he tried to dodge the blow. “Every god damn year your mother has to see you – be reminded of that asshole that was your dad – she doesn’t need you to remind her – “

Frank ranted and raved, raining blows on Jim’s head and shoulders with the bottle until one particularly rough blow shattered the bottle. Dazed, Jim curled up tight on the floor, covering his face as best he could, trying to block out the words Frank spat at him. Jim had heard it all before; when his mother was off planet, Frank got particularly nasty with his words. It was hard not to take what Frank said to heart, having grown up most of his life with this man shouting horrible things at him. Jim knew nothing else, barring what Sam used to tell him. But Sam was long gone now, leaving Jim on his own. 

He caught a kick to the chin and tasted blood. Frank wobbled; there was a pause in the beating, enough time for Jim to reach out for his PADD and backpack. His fingers closed around the strap of his bag, he tugged it close to his abdomen. Frank kicked out at him again, catching Jim in the ribs. Jim felt his rib crack with the force of the kick. Biting back the pain, Jim reached for Frank’s foot when he kicked again, throwing Frank off balance. Frank fell to the floor with a loud swear. Jim scrambled up, ignoring the sharp pain in his side, his hands clutching his PADD and his backpack. Frank was shouting something again, but Jim ran outside without a backwards glance. 

It was pouring rain outside, soaking Jim in moments but he didn’t stop moving. He wanted to get as far away from the house as fast as possible. It took longer than usual, with the sharp pain in his side hindering his breathing, but Jim managed to get to one of his favorite hiding spots – the hay loft of an unused barn on the edge of town, a couple miles down the road from their house. 

Jim pushed open the back door of the barn, which was nearly pitch black. He limped inside, careful to shut the door behind him. He fished an old electric lantern out of his bag, which he had modified at one point to extend the battery life. It would work all night, if it was intact. He fiddled with the switch for a moment or two, having a hard time getting it on in the dark, but it finally flickered to life. Relieved, Jim found the ladder to the hay loft and hoisted himself up with some difficulty, his whole body protesting in pain. 

There was a little blanket laid out on the old hay in the far corner of the barn. Jim hobbled to his little nest, setting down the lantern on an upturned box. He managed to peel off his soaking clothes and laid them out to dry before maneuvering down onto the little blanket in the hay. Everything hurt. Stretching out as best he could, Jim took stock of his injuries. His rib was definitely broken, at least one, with a darkening bruise around it. His head, arms and shoulders were bruised from the bottle, and there were little cuts on his hands from the shattered glass. Jim settled back into the soft hay, closing his eyes and letting himself feel the dull throbbing sensation throughout his body. He listened to the sound of the rain on the barn, the rumble of the thunder. He felt safe here. 

Jim slept through the night in the barn, and spent his birthday sitting in the hay loft and reading. He had brought along some food taken from the pantry at home, so he didn’t go hungry. He did ache all over, having slept in at a funny angle to keep pressure off his broken ribs. Still, it was one of his better birthdays since he didn’t have to listen to the Remembrance Day crap, he didn’t see Frank, or his mother, and he was doing things he wanted to do. Jim didn’t go back home until it was very late, and he only went home because he ran out of food and because the lantern finally ran out of battery. Frank was asleep by the time Jim crept back into the house. 

Jim went to school the next day like normal. The other students still stared and whispered, probably at Jim’s fresh bruises, but at least they didn’t try to ask about his dad or Remembrance Day.

***

Jim started early on the morning of the 20th. He changed into his cadet reds, made sure his hip flask was full and took a final swig from his bottle before slipping out of the dorm room he shared with Bones. It was his first year at the Academy, and he had been dreading this day all year. In Iowa, Jim could avoid all the Remembrance Day bullshit, but it was practically a religious holiday here at the Academy. He did his best to avoid it; he petitioned for leave, wrote letters to the admiralty and complained to Pike every chance he got, but there was no getting around it. Jim was 22 today, and there was no dodging all the pomp and circumstance that always accompanied his birthday.

All the cadets assembled in the auditorium in the morning, appropriately sober and quiet. There was a dull murmur, but the chatter was minimal and quieted quickly as they took their seats. Jim settled into a seat in the most secluded spot he could find at the back of the auditorium. He took a swig from his flask and sunk low in his seat. He wondered where Bones was; he had left for the night shift the evening before, but hadn’t come back. He probably managed to get a shift at the hospital, the lucky bastard. Jim should’ve asked him for some particularly vile illness, so he could spend the day in the hospital rather than this stupid ceremony. Jim should’ve eaten a peach or seven, but it was a bit late for that now. 

The auditorium filled up around him, and eventually someone stood up to speak – it looked like Admiral Archer. Jim decided to play a game; every time someone said “heroic,” “tragic,” or “sacrifice,” Jim took a drink. He wished he had a bigger flask. 

The girl sitting next to him kept glancing at him. Jim leaned over, giving her his best grin. “Gotta love these long speeches, huh? Would you like a drink?” he asked, holding out the flask to her. She blinked, her face clearing suddenly. 

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, as if that solved everything. Jim made a face and leaned back, taking a deep swig from his flask. 

“Yeah, everyone know me, especially today,” he said, already starting to write her off. 

“No, I mean the other girls talk,” she said, eyes scanning Jim’s face. 

“Only good things, I hope,” Jim said, cocking an eyebrow. He held out his hand. “I’m Jim.”

She hesitated a moment and then shook his hand. “I’m Sabrina. I’ll take that drink if you’re still offering,” she said. Jim flashed a grin at her as he handed her the flask. 

Jim had her back to his room in record time after the ceremony had finally finished. He was plenty buzzed, but his fingers made quick work of her bra. His hands ran over her creamy smooth skin, touching and caressing in all the right places. He could get lost in the curly auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders, and that’s exactly what he did. For an hour or two, he was lost in a world of skin against skin, breathy moans, and a light sheen of sweat. 

Afterwards, Sarah? Simone? Samantha? lay on his shoulder, the sheets rumpled under the two of them. She peaked up at Jim, whose eyes were closed. 

“Jim?” she asked. Jim cracked open an eye to look at her. 

“We’ll have to wait awhile for another round,” he said, running a finger down her spine. She shivered. He leaned down and kissed her, pulling her closer against his bare chest. He wanted to prolong the feeling, stave off the inevitable loneliness which would soon follow. 

“Is this how you always spend Remembrance Day?” she asked, detaching herself reluctantly from Jim’s mouth. Jim stiffened involuntarily, suddenly feeling like he could use another drink. He tried to relax again.

“Not exactly,” he said, settling back against his pillow. She reached up and touched his cheek. 

“It must be difficult. D’you miss him?”

“Who?”

“Your… your father?” 

Jim moved Sabine? Serena? off his shoulder and swung his legs over the side of the bed so he faced away from her. He wasn’t about to do this with a complete stranger, he didn’t even talk about this sort of thing to people he was close with. Not that there were many, but Jim put that out of his mind. 

“I didn’t know him,” Jim shrugged, reaching over the side of the bed to pick up his shirt off the floor. He made a show of glancing at the clock on his nightstand. “Oh – shit, I have an appointment with Captain Pike – “ Jim scrambled up and looked around for his underwear. 

“Now? But I didn’t think anyone was working today,” Stacy? Sasha? asked. Jim pulled up his underwear and made his best apologetic face. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jim said, leaning down to give her a kiss. 

“I live on the fifth floor of Hartley,” she said, reaching over the bed to find her panties. “If you wanna come over later…”

“I’ll look you up,” Jim said, holding out her panties. She took them and gave him a big kiss. 

“Don’t forget about me!” she said. She shimmied into her cadet reds and left as Jim started pulling on his own. As soon as the door shut, Jim shucked his uniform again, kicking it to the side, not caring if they got wrinkled or dirty. He found his bottle and took a swig of the strong liquor. He pulled on some civilian clothes and left the dorm again. 

The bars around the Academy were normally filled with cadets mourning failing grades, celebrating passing ones, or trying to pick up someone to stave off their loneliness. Today, they were mostly empty, aside from the regular alcoholics. It was still early for most by the time Jim stepped into a bar he visited infrequently, preferring to keep some semblance of anonymity today. He sat down at the bar and ordered a double whiskey. The bartender barely glanced at Jim, just slid him his drink and moved down the bar to help a different customer. 

Jim downed half his drink in one gulp. Clutching his drink in one hand, he slumped down in his seat. One of the other bar patrons was looking at Jim from time to time, but Jim ignored him. His thoughts distracted him enough to tune out other people around him. He finished his drink and flagged down the bartender for another. Halfway through his second drink, the man that was staring at him scooted closer to Jim. 

“Rough day?” the man asked. Jim didn’t even look at him. 

“Guess you could say that,” Jim said, knocking back the rest of his whiskey. He waved his empty glass for another. 

“Y’ look kind of familiar,” the man said, leaning in and squinting. 

“I get that a lot.”

“No – no, I mean, you look like that guy that’s on the holovid – “ the man nodded to the screen hanging over the bar, which was currently showing a picture of George Kirk. Jim looked up, his hand tightening on his glass. 

“Yeah, that’d be because we’re related,” Jim said, gritting his teeth. 

“No shit?” the man looked quickly between Jim and the holovid. 

“Yep.”

“You’re his son? The one that was born – it’s your birthday? Let me buy you a drink –“

“No, it’s fine.”

The man was already flagging down the bartender. “What’re you drinking?” the man asked, but didn’t wait for a response. He had the bartender pour Jim a double of the best tequila in the house. 

“Yer dad’s a hero, kid,” the man said, raising his own glass to Jim. 

“He was just following orders,” Jim said as he took a big gulp of the tequila. It burned unpleasantly – tequila was not his drink. 

“He saved his whole crew with all that quick thinkin’ of his. The best captain the ‘fleet ever saw.”

“He wasn’t a captain.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t a captain. Lieutenant commander.”

“That’s no way to talk about your dad, he was a hero.”

“It’s the truth. He was a lieutenant commander, just following orders. He only made captain by default – twelve minutes hardly counts.”

“He saved the whole crew – you and your mother, even.”

“By following orders. And getting himself killed,” Jim frowned deeply. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he registered dull anger. The words he spoke sounded horribly familiar. It made him uncomfortable. 

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your father!”

“I know that,” Jim shrugged. He sipped his drink, doing his best to keep calm. 

“You don’t have an ounce of respect!”

Jim said nothing. He didn’t have anything to say that would change the other man’s mind, and certainly nothing to say that would make himself feel better. It was best just to let the guy talk to himself. The man stood up next to him, still saying something. 

“You ignoring me now? I said; you’re not your father’s son.”

Jim drained his glass and was on his feet in a flash. His fist connected with the man’s nose with a satisfying crunch before anyone knew what was going on. The man was, unfortunately, bigger than Jim, and the effectiveness of Jim’s punch was dulled by his intoxication. He was on Jim in seconds, throwing punches blindly. Jim warded them off, getting a few blows in himself, the combat training he’d had this year helping with his attack and defense. The barman and a few of the more sober patrons pulled Jim and the other man apart, both men bruised and bleeding. Before they were thrown out, the barman made sure to scan their IDs and ban them both properly. 

“You ungrateful, disrespectful bastard!” the man shouted at Jim as the door to the bar closed behind them. “That was my favorite bar!”

“Maybe if you didn’t try to talk about stuff you don’t know anything about,” Jim said, rubbing his jaw. His head was spinning with all the alcohol and, Jim supposed, some of the better aimed punches. The man leapt at Jim again, knocking him off his already unsteady feet. Jim’s temple bounced off the curb, and everything went dark. 

Jim came to some time later, his head pounding. He squinted at the bright lights above him, the harsh lighting doing nothing for the pounding in his head. He had to go somewhere darker. He started to move, even though his body hurt, but there was a hand pressed to his chest, pushing him back down. Jim swung out an arm at whoever was trying to hold him down.

“Damn it, Jim! Stop fighting – you’re gonna hurt yourself more,” a familiar voice echoed. “Lie down. Damn it, lie down!”

“Bones?” Jim squinted, having trouble focusing on the older man’s face. 

“Maybe you didn’t hit your head too hard,” Bones grumbled, pressing Jim back to the bed. “Christ, your BAC is off the charts. What the hell were you doing?”

“Drinkin’,” Jim said, trying to bat him away again. Bones rolled his eyes. 

“Obviously. The EMT said you got in a fight. Hold still so I can put this in your arm – “

Jim flinched. “Augh – no, ow, stop, stop – I already hurt enough.”

“You need fluids, Jim.”

“I want to be drunk. I want – I want…” Jim’s eyes rolled back as he started to seize. Bones swore and called in the on-call team. They fluttered around Jim, doing their best to relieve his symptoms. Jim went limp, breathing hard. “No,” Jim gagged as they pumped him full of drugs. 

“Stop fighting it Jim, damn it – I don’t want to sedate you – “ 

Jim went still, but his heart rate was still high. Bones shooed the medical team away once he was sure Jim was stable. Jim refused to meet his eyes. He kept his own closed and his head turned away from Bones. 

“You have a hell of a concussion, Jim,” Bones said, treating the cuts and bruises on Jim’s arms and face. 

“I just wanted…”

“To kill yourself? You have a death wish, kid. But a stubbornly thick skull,” Bones shook his head. “You need stitches.”

“Fuck, I’ve had worse with less help,” Jim said, turning to glare with one bright blue eye at the older man. Bones looked away. He knew what Jim said was true; Bones had scanned Jim when the ambulance had brought him in, and what he saw in the young man’s body was at once distressing and awe-inspiring: many bones, all over, broken and healed over, most without being properly set. It looked like classic abuse patterns, but the doctor wasn’t about to breech that subject until Jim was ready to tell him himself. And now was not the time. 

“Well, now you can have proper medical treatment. I’m not letting you walk out of this hospital with a god damn concussion,” Bones grunted, busying himself getting the sutures ready so that he could avoid looking Jim in the eye. There was something sad and vulnerable there, something that Bones hadn’t seen in the usually cocky and self-assured young man. 

“I just – I just wanted a drink,” Jim said, his voice hoarse. “This day – nobody leaves me alone on this day. I just want to skip ahead.”

“It’s a day like any other day, Jim,” Bones said, coming back to rub some numbing cream on the back of Jim’s head. Jim sat up sharply, swaying dangerously with the sudden movement. 

“No, it’s not. It’s – it’s – “ Bones cut Jim off by pressing him back down to the bed. 

“Stop talking. Let me stitch you up and then I’ll take you back to the dorms –“

Jim struggled. “I don’t – I should’ve – “

The hiss of a hypo pressed to Jim’s neck cut him off in mid-sentence. Bones knew there would be hell to pay once Jim woke, but this way he could get Jim stitched up properly. He ran another bag of fluids before he signed Jim out and carted him back to their shared room at the dorms. Jim stayed asleep until Bones started tucking him into his bed; the sun was barely starting to set. 

“Wha…?”

“Shut up, you infant,” Bones said, not unkindly. “You need to sleep this day off.”  
Bones propped up Jim better with an extra pillow. Jim’s head lolled to the side. 

“Y’ knocked me out?”

“You wouldn’t let me fix you, I would’ve done the same for any other patient,” Bones said shortly. 

“I hate being knocked out,” Jim mumbled. Bones set up a tricorder and PADD on Jim’s bedside table. Jim’s eyes followed Bones’s movements. “I don’t feel drunk anymore.” 

“That would be all those fluids I gave you at the hospital,” Bones said, punching in some buttons on the PADD to set up alerts should Jim’s condition change. “You won’t have a hangover.”

“Hell – nobody told me you could do that,” Jim said, turning away again. His head still throbbed, probably from the stitches. 

“That doesn’t mean you won’t hurt. You took a bad beating, Jim,” Bones said. Jim could hear the worry and confusion in his voice. He hunched his shoulders, not sure what to do with that. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve had worse.”

“I know,” Bones said quietly. Neither of them said anything for a long time. “You should get some rest, Jim.”

“Sure,” Jim mumbled. He tugged the blanket up to his chin, facing away from Bones. He heard Bones sigh and turn down the lights, but he didn’t hear him leave. After several long moments of lying still, Jim half-turned and peeked out, looking for Bones. The older man was sitting on his own bed, apparently reading his PADD. Jim liked that Bones didn’t ask too many prying questions, even though he was sure Bones had plenty of them. It was, Jim thought, one of the reasons they got along so well. Rolling onto his back with a wince and a little groan, Jim settled in for an uncomfortable night’s sleep. 

The next morning, Jim woke with his alarm, which was still set for his normal class schedule. He rolled out of bed, groaning painfully. His groan woke Bones, who moved faster than Jim, having not been in a fight the night before. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bones said, throwing out an arm to steady Jim. 

“Class, I have contemporary intergalactic issues –“

Bones shook his head. “No you don’t. You had a massive concussion – you need rest.”

“I can’t miss class, Bones.”

“For all your insane delinquency, you think you’d be able to miss one class,” Bones ran a tricorder over Jim’s head. “I’ll write you a note.”

“That’s not the point –“

“You’re staying here. Doctor’s orders. You can get the notes from some leggy classmate, I’m sure.”

Jim batted at his tricorder. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Jim?” Bones asked, dropping his arms at his sides. Jim blinked at Bones, one eye dark and puffy. He looked away. 

“Just – just want to go about things like they normally are,” Jim said finally. They were both quiet for a few moments. 

“Tomorrow. You can go back to normal tomorrow – Today, please, just take it easy, okay?”

Jim sagged. “Fine. But you can’t keep me in bed. I’m taking a shower.”

“Good. You smell like the floor of a bar.” 

“Leave me alone,” Jim shrugged out of Bones’s supporting grip and wobbled into their bathroom. He shut the door behind him and ran the water in the shower hot. His head throbbed painfully, but the various cuts and bruises over his arms and torso were practically healed, thanks to Bones. He scrubbed at his hair, hissing when his blunt nails ran over the stitches Bones had left. He stood under the hot stream for a long time, trying to figure out where Bones fit in in all this. Nothing, no one had done anything like this for him, let alone on his birthday, of all days. It was a strange and disorienting, but not necessarily unpleasant. 

Jim finally turned off the water, the bathroom filled with steam. He slung a towel around his hips and came back into the bedroom, planning on ignoring Bones, if he was still there, until he could figure out what to do with all this. Bones was there, sitting on the sofa, pretending to read his PADD. Jim knew he was pretending by the way Bones’s foot bounced. Bones looked up, pretending to be casual.

“There’s food,” Bones said, nodding to a tray he’d taken from the cafeteria. “I have to go check in at the hospital, but I’ll be back later. I don’t want you leaving or doing anything stupid, you hear?”

Jim shrugged. “Sure, whatever,” he said, picking up an apple from the tray. Bones suppressed a sigh and stood. 

“Right. I’ll… be back later,” Bones said, tucking his PADD under his arm. Jim took a big bite of apple and waved his hand.

“You said,” Jim said around a mouthful of fruit. 

“Right. See you, then,” Bones said. Jim turned away, waiting to hear the door to their dorm room slide shut. As soon as he heard the hiss and click, Jim sank down on the edge of his bed and stared at the apple in his hand. Jim exhaled and shook his head. This wasn’t the birthday he had been expecting.


End file.
